


Breathless

by Kinozaki



Category: Softenni
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, F/F, Genderbending, Manga & Anime, Romance, Transformation, Transgender, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2021-01-13 14:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinozaki/pseuds/Kinozaki
Summary: A depressed tennis supply store worker has a run-in with a particularly lively high school girl, who helps him remember a little bit of why he fell in love with tennis in the first place, which sadly exacerbates how empty his current situation feels. Wishing he could get a bit more of his enthusiasm back, he returns home to find that he might just get the second chance he's always longed for.





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on DeviantArt on March 5, 2018.
> 
> In an effort to accurately reflect my growth as a writer, my older stories are going to be uploaded chronologically, until publishing becomes concurrent.
> 
> As such, please bear with me through any roughness, as a lot has happened in that time, and I will be going through that at a very accelerated pace.

Akira stared out of the window, watching cars rush by the store, each one with somewhere far more important to be than the tennis supply store he’d been working at for years now. He didn’t have much else to do, anyway. There’d hardly been any customers all day, and he’d already taken care of everything else that needed to be done. He’d arranged a new display of the season’s hottest tennis fashions, put out their new stock of racquets and strings, and straightened the shelves, even threw out some tennis balls that someone had taken a black marker to, vandalizing with all kinds of crude comments. Still, all of that took him hardly no time at all, and he still found himself with a considerable amount of his shift left.

It was a lonely job, made even lonelier by the management cutting back on staff due to dwindling sales. He’d never spoken to his coworkers much anyway, most of them just high schoolers desperate for any kind of spending money, and finding some common ground to talk to them about was often a struggle. Still, the mere presence of someone else in the store would have helped immensely, made things a little less joyless, maybe even made the time pass faster.

That unfortunately wasn’t the case, though, and Akira had spent the last couple months in a depressing, self-defeating loop. He’d wake up, go about his morning routine, the clock into work. While he was there, he’d try his best to stay positive, hoping that, somehow, his positivity alone could will customers to the store. That positivity would falter throughout the day until he finally clocked out and made his way home, where he’d make a simple meal, relax with a beer on the couch, and then fall asleep, only to start the whole routine over again the next day.

The sheer monotony of all it, coupled with the general lack of customers, had drained any passion he had for tennis, or for work, and left him worried and anxious, constantly feeling an axe above his neck, wondering when he’d be fired and left scrambling to find some foothold. With all the cuts and dwindling sales, he was certain that time was soon. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure how the store had stayed open this long.

He got lost in the headlights passing by the window as he thought about his life, wondering what had happened to get him stuck with such malaise. Akira wished he was in one of those cars instead of stuck behind the register. He’d come to appreciate driving more and more over the months. Something about being in control of where he was going was immensely empowering, almost even therapeutic. What if he left work right now? He could close up the shop, get in his car, and drive. Just drive wherever he wanted, with no real destination in mind, just following the road as he wanted, going where he felt he should go.

“Excuse me, Sir, are you busy at the moment?”

Or maybe he’d stop by home first, print out some resumes, and find places he could apply to. He could start now, while he still had this job to fall back in, maybe try and find somewhere that still felt right to him, some place that he fit in. He didn’t know at all where that might be, admittedly feeling unqualified to do much else more than run a register, but maybe he’d surprise himself if he tried.

“Excuse me?”

He felt a slight tug on his sleeve, pulling him out of his fugue. His head snapped around for a second until his gaze settled on the girl who’d been trying to get his attention.

“Ah! H-hello there! I’m so sorry, I must have gotten distracted, and, well…” He trailed off, chuckling to himself nervously while he idly scratched at the back of his head.

“T-that’s okay! I haven’t been here long, I promise! I was just wondering if you could help me pick out a new racquet? It’s been awhile since I’ve needed a new one, and I’m not too familiar with some of the newer types…”

The girl smiled serenely at him, her green eyes sparkling from behind the large, wire-framed glasses she wore, a slight blush painted on her cheeks as though she was every bit embarrassed as he was. He nervously looked away from her out of habit, his gaze moving down for a moment, following her long, straight green hair as it flowed beneath her shoulders to the middle of her back. She was wearing a polo shirt with a purple color and a strange, pointy design on the right side, the rest of it as white as the skirt she wore, her outfit and age clearly pegging her as the member of some local school’s team. The shirt hugged her considerable chest tightly. It was probably the largest size she could find that wasn’t too long for her, and it clearly showed, her chest straining the top of it while the rest of it clung to her wide hips, the slight narrowing of her waist hardly visible. She pulled her arms behind her, a stance that made her look oddly diminutive though it pushed her chest out even more, and tilted her head to the side.

“So...can you help me?” she asked.

“O-oh! Of course!” Akira quickly responded, jerking his head back up to eye level with the girl, only now noticing some loose strands of hair sticking up near the sides of her head. “Certainly! Right this way!” he continued, trying to drown his own embarrassment with politeness as he walked out from behind the counter and walked with the girl over to their selection of racquets.

“Well, before I can tell you about any of our stock, I need to know what kind of tennis you play. I know, looking at the wall here, that things sort of start to blur together, all of them looking the same, but even without strings, there’s a pretty big difference between the racquets.”

“Ah, I see!” the girl answered, cordially. “Well, I play soft tennis, then. What would be good for that?”

“Ah, in that case, we want to start over here,” he said, shuffling over a few steps to stand in front of a different, almost identical looking set of racquets.

He then launched into a long spiel about the different racquets they had, his passion for the sport slowly boiling up inside of him as he talked about all the different materials used in the frames and how this one was better for this style of play, and that one was better for that style. He’d practically given her a college level course and the intricacies of soft tennis racquets when he finally glanced over her, noticing her cordial smile and her polite nods to everything he said, realizing that he was just heaping information on her that probably wasn’t useful in the slightest.

“But,” he said, looking over the girl and sizing her up before turning back to the racquets, “sometimes it’s best to go by feel.” He pulled a racquet off the wall and handed it to her. “Here, give this a try.”

The girl nodded excitedly, clearly glad to be free from Akira’s lecture, and held it in her hand, moving it up and down slightly as she assessed its weight. He stepped back a little, motioning for her to go ahead, and she took a few practice swings. Her chest swayed and pulled back with her as she tried how it felt for forehand hits, then smooshed together as she practiced her backhand, soft jiggles running through her breasts with each and every movement. Akira tried his best to pretend he didn’t notice, focusing instead on the smile she wore as she swung away, apparently pleased with his selection.

“Well, then, how’s that feel?”

“It feels amazing!” she beamed.

“Great! Then all you really need is a good set of strings and you’re all set!”

“Ahaha, right! Do you...do you have any strings that might be good for cutting-erm, I mean, what would be a good, durable set for me, then?”

Akira furrowed his brow a little, trying to figure out what the girl was trying to say before she stopped herself, but decided to move on, walking just a few steps over to where the strings were. He kept his explanation brief this time, giving a quick rundown of the different types.

“You can’t go wrong, though, with these. They’re perfect for soft tennis and will last you a long time,” he finished.

“That’s perfect! Thank you so much, you’ve been a huge help!”

“Of course! Would you like me to take these up to the register for you? That way you can keep looking around if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you!”

He took the racquet from the girl and took it and the strings back to the register with him while she continued to browse. He couldn’t help but smile as she watched her, a look of careful consideration on her face as she looked all over the store. He was glad to see someone with a general interest in the sport. It was a welcome relief from all the kids that would come in, clearly forced into it by their parents, leaving with a full outfit and equipment set for a sport they’d drop as soon as they found some other hobby. After a few minutes, she started walking back to the register, several boxes of soft tennis balls in her arms, the stack curving out slightly to compensate for her chest.

“Here, let me get those for you!”

Akira quickly walked out from behind the register, taking the precariously balanced tower from her and gently placing it on the counter.

“Ah, thank you again!” she said as he began to ring up her purchases.

“M-Miss?” He started to ask, as he rang up the sixth box of balls. “Are you really sure you need all of these balls? Even though they’re soft, they don’t usually wear out that quickly…”

“Oh, they’re not all for me! My team tends to go through them pretty fast, so I figured it was better to be safe than sorry!”

“Ah, right, of course!” Akira nodded, though he still had a hard time believing a team, especially one from this small town, needed so many balls. “Sounds like you all must have a lot of fun, then!”

“Absolutely! We’re all training very hard for an upcoming tournament, so having time to kick back is very important!”

The two of them continued idly chatting as Akira totaled up her purchase, the girl talking about how nice it was to be on the team as she paid. Akira thanked her for her business, sincerely meaning it for the first time in ages, and she left, a cheerful smile spread across her face.

He went through the rest of his shift feeling ever so slightly happier, his spirits raised from the girl’s visit, his passion for tennis rekindled a little by her own. He hardly felt the hours tick by until it was finally time for him to close up the shop, slipping into his car feeling the closest to satisfied that he’d been in months.

Akira spent the whole drive home thinking about that girl and her team, then reminiscing about his own time playing tennis. As cliche and sappy as it sounded, that truly was the happiest time of his life. He’d started at a young age, first playing the game during middle school in gym class and getting instantly hooked. It didn’t take him long to join the team, and he applied himself with a fervor that he’d never managed to muster for anything else. He’d show up at school early, sometimes just as the sun was rising, and leave late, as the last pinkish rays were sinking on the horizon. He continued playing into high school, having fun more important to him than skill, though he easily had plenty of both. There were even scouts watching him closely at some of their matches, and he’d helped lead his team to more than a couple tournament wins. His future had looked endlessly bright back then.

His cheer turned to melancholy as he pulled into his apartment complex’s parking lot, his head clouding over as he wondered where things had gone wrong. It was all going so well and then, suddenly, it wasn’t. He never did get scouted after high school, and his fairly mediocre grades, he couldn’t bother himself to get anything better, made it nearly impossible for him to get into college, not that he’d wanted to anyway. He latched on to the first thing he could find, a job at a nearby tennis supplies store, and he’d been there ever since. He tried to push away the thought that he was only kept on because the owner felt sorry for him, but it stuck in his head, hovering on the edge of his mind as he unlocked to door to his apartment and headed in.

He wished he could go back to that time as he slid off his shoes and tossed his jacket up on the hook. He’d try and do things differently then, maybe get his grades up so that some college would take interest in him. Or maybe he’d find some other passion entirely, something to make him more well rounded and give him more prospects.

Akira opened up the fridge and grabbed a beer before mindlessly shuffling over and plopping down on the couch. Really, though, he probably wouldn’t do anything different. And, to him, that’s fine. As long as he got to relive the best days of his life, got to have fun playing tennis with friends, that was what really mattered to him. He simply wanted to go back to when he felt like he truly belonged, when he really mattered. He’d even be okay if he got to play on that girl’s team, though that was even more impossible than any of his other fantasies.

His head was so full of doubts, misgivings, and regrets that he didn’t even notice the strange numbness, the odd feeling of disconnect that was spreading throughout his body, starting at the top of his head and working its way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He vaguely registered that the couch had gotten comfier, not realizing that it seemed bigger and softer because he had started to shrink down, his legs now dangling down the edge of the couch while his head sat lower against the back.

A popping sound filled the room, but failed to pull him out of his thoughts, as his feet began to shrink down, thinning slightly while they shortened considerably. His feet plummeted through shoe sizes rapidly while the bone structure started to change, his toes becoming a bit longer and slimmer, not the stubby little clubs they once were, while his toenails seemed to get a little more vibrant and healthy looking. At the least, they were certainly far neater than they’d been just seconds before, the nails neatly trimmed into cute, tidy arches. His skin started to shift, getting a little lighter and a lot smoother, the rougher skin on his feet changing the most, becoming tight and soft, the balls and heels of feet taking on a soft, pink blush.

The pale, slightly flushed skin that now covered his feet started to creep up his legs. His ankles slimmed down to match his tiny feet, then his calves began to change, his skin’s new pigment also erasing the thick hair that coated his legs, the freshly exposed flesh popping up with goosebumps as it felt air creep up his pants legs and hit it directly. His calves tightened and firmed, the weight they’d put on from the years of his sedentary lifestyle undone in an instant as they started to resemble that of someone who ran every day. Not necessarily a marathon runner, no, but someone who was used to pushing off with them, darting forward quickly, as opposed to someone who simply shuffled over to put things back on shelves.

It traveled up his leg even further, the hair on his thighs disappearing as well. They started to ripple and change, the weight that filled them becoming something different, a little firmer and more controlled than the fat that had filled them before. The smooth skin that now spread across them made them look delectable, round, and plump in a way that his legs never had before, though he couldn’t see that underneath his suddenly baggy khakis.

He began to shift in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling oddly uncomfortable on him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. He opened his eyes, suddenly snapped out of his thoughts, and picked himself up out of his chair. He then crashed straight to the ground, completely caught off guard by how different his feet felt beneath him, their weight and shape now totally alien to him. The fact that they were now short enough to be dwarfed by his pants, tugging them down to his ankles as he fell, didn’t help matters much either.

“Jeez, it’s just not my night, huh?” he muttered, rubbing his head as he flipped himself over onto his butt so that he could pull his pants back up. He didn’t get far though, as he got a full view of exactly how his legs had changed over the last few minutes, seeing softer, cuter looking legs than he’d ever had before, something about them unsettlingly appealing, almost arousing.

“Wh-what the hell’s happening?!” he cried out as the weight in his butt began to shift around and lift him just a little higher off the ground. None of it went away, but it filled each cheek more evenly and it pulled up more tightly, making it seem that his butt had filled up more than it actually had. It was undeniably larger now, though, having tightened into a firm, juicy peach, so full now that his underwear bit into it, only accentuating its shape. He rubbed at his thighs, shocked by how soft and supple they now felt before picking himself up and rushing towards a nearby mirror, not even bothering to pick up his now far-too-large pants. His mouth was agape as he finally took note of everything that had already happened to him.

“I-I’m getting smaller? No...younger? No, I’m pretty sure my legs haven’t looked like this…well, ever! Why’s this even happening? How’s this possible at all?!”

As he was busy wondering what had happened to him, he felt a warmth spread through his groin and up into his stomach, the tightness in his underwear start to relieve itself as his genitals began to shrink. He tugged his underwear down, the pair quickly dropping off his legs once they’d cleared his round butt. Akira watched as his penis started to shrink down in front of his own eyes, then looked back in the mirror to see that his testicles were following suit. While his penis was receding inside of him, starting to look small, soft, and almost cute, his balls were pulling up into his body, a change he felt more than saw, though his scrotum pulled in tight with them. They reformed inside of his body, his whole reproductive system changing and shifting as they went, a tight, warm vagina leading to a cozy womb, his testicles becoming ovaries as they settled on either side of it. Meanwhile, he saw as what was left of his manhood changed color, becoming a gentle, soft pink as his scrotum shifted into a pair of moist lips and his head shrunk down into a swollen, firm clit before they were both hidden away, the flesh around them puffing up and taking on a slight blush, swallowing up his pretty slit.

“No...no way…” he muttered, sliding a hand down between his crotch, slightly spreading himself and seeing the slightest hint of his pink lips in the mirror, pulling his hand back as he felt a strange shiver pulse through his body. “I...I know I wanted to be younger again but...but not like this…” he trailed off, his thoughts suddenly returning to the green-haired girl he’d met in the store earlier. If he had simply gotten younger, just become himself again, he wouldn’t have any idea what to do with himself, how to explain any of it. He’d be completely alone in the world, though he supposed that wasn’t much of a change. Looking at what had happened to him, though, confident of what was left to come, would things be different if he were to…?

If she were a girl, would she accept her? Could she join her team, play alongside her friends? Find a place she belonged and a happiness she thought she’d lost and would never get back? Was she really being given another chance?

The soft sound of bones popping filled the room once more as her hips started to change, becoming rounder and fuller, further accentuating the shape of her butt. They started to look even better once her waist started to pinch in, pulling in just above her navel, giving her figure a roundness that, while certainly not voluptuous, had an undeniable, unmistakably feminine, charm to it. Her stomach soon followed suit, the gut she’d grown from nights of watching TV and drinking beer fading away into a tummy that was flatter, a little more toned, and pleasantly smooth to the touch. She threw off the polo shirt she was wearing, wanting to get a better look at just how soft everything had become, now thoroughly enraptured by what was happening to her body.

She started to feel a tingle spread through her chest, starting deep inside of her and then working its way to the tips of her nipples, the brown buds stiffening in response. They then changed in color, a rosy pink spreading down from the tips and into her areola, which puffed up ever so slightly, standing out from her skin. She then started to feel the tingle deep in her chest intensify, pulsing outwards and becoming a tenderness, her nipples stiffening even more until it was almost painful. She went to touch her chest, wondering what was going on, but drew her hand back with a moan as soon as her fingers touched the soft, tender flesh. She watched in the mirror as her chest started to fill, a gentle weight building in her breasts as they blossomed, small at first, barely more than a bug bite, until pushed out more and more, filling out and becoming rounder. Her legs quivered a little from the sensation as her breasts slowly went from one cup size to the next, years of development passing by in seconds, her nipples getting harder as they did. Just as she thought she was going to lose it, the sensation of her budding breasts too much for her, they stopped, the tenderness in her pillowy flesh fading away while her rock hard nipples began to relax. After catching her breath, she brought her hands underneath them, cupping them gently, her perky breasts just barely filling her hands.

As she looked down at her chest and considered seeing how they’d look if her boobs were pressed together, she felt her fingers crack and her knuckles pop. Her broad, stubby fingers started to get longer, more slender, her short cut nails lengthening into a neater, more feminine shape. Her hands shrunk down, better matching her more delicate fingers, and she couldn’t help but beam seeing her breasts. “A perfect handful…” she murmured.

The hair on her arm started to thin out, what was left becoming light and wispy, almost impossible to see, with the hair under her arms disappearing completely, leaving her armpits almost silky smooth. While her arms definitely got thinner, they also became more muscled, not to an extreme extent, but enough to give them a pleasant shape that continued all the way up, and enough to give Akira the impression that they’d be wonderful for tennis. A louder pop accompanied her shoulders pulling in, the last remnants of her larger frame disappearing as they did, her new profile one that was far more slight and petite. Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel her decision was made for her. She gently squeezed her boobs together, arousal flaring up throughout her body as she saw the soft valley of her cleavage, the slight flush of her skin only adding to its appeal.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, she let got of her chest, her breasts settling back against her frame. She looked back in the mirror and saw that her neck had started to get slimmer, far less broad than it was, and watched as her Adam’s apple smoothed away completely, leaving her with a soft, slender neck. She started to cough slightly once it was gone, a sudden scratchiness spreading deep in her throat. Soon the coughs started to sound different, each on lighter and higher pitched than the last.

“A-ah, jeez, come on…” she pleaded, her voice coming out light and airy, strangely upbeat despite her mounting frustration at all the coughing. She was shocked to hear the changes at first, though a part of her chided herself for not figuring out that was coming, and, after a couple more coughs, the scratchiness in her throat was gone completely. “So...this is...this is my voice?” she asked, having a hard time finishing the sentence, thrown off by how different her voice was. “I...I guess this isn’t so bad… It’s actually kind of cute!” she said, a cheerful lilt entering her voice at the end.

After she’d come to terms with her new voice, her face started to feel warm and tingly, like, somehow, it had fallen asleep the same way a leg or arm did. She looked at it in the mirror as it started to shift and change, her chin and jaw becoming less pronounced while her cheeks became rounder and fuller. Her lips plumped up, pressing gently against each other, taking on a lighter, pinker color than they had before, her mouth curling up slightly on the ends. Next was her nose, which started to shrink down, the harsh angle it once had smoothing into a gentle slope, the large, almost bulbous tip becoming a cute, delicate little point that slightly curved up right at the end. Her eyes became rounder, an innate cheerfulness entering them as her irises changed from a deep blue to a bright amber. Long, thin eyelashes curled gently above them, and her eyebrows thinned considerably, shaping themselves into two thin, gentle arches before taking on a light pink color.

That same pink soon spread to the rest of her hair, completely covering the rich brown it was before. Her scalp began to itch a little as her hair thickened and grew, her short, professional-looking crew cut soon spilling down the sides of her head. It didn’t grow too long, though, just long enough to frame her face. Wild strands curled slightly outwards just below her chin, while the thick, pink hair gently kissed the nape of her neck in the back. She tried to push down some unruly hairs that were sticking straight up in the middle of her head, each one spreading out in a different direction, but they simply popped right back up, refusing to be tamed.

The numbness she’d felt back on the couch slowly started to fade from her body, the disconnect leaving with it as she started to think of the body she saw in the mirror as her own. She blushed a little, suddenly embarrassed to see herself naked, just standing in front of a mirror wearing nothing at all. Her blush deepened, though, as he mind started to wander. She started to think about the green-haired girl she’d met earlier. She couldn’t recall for the life her where or when she’d seen her, but that wasn’t important. All she could think about was what would would happen if that girl saw her like this, bare and exposed, a ripe fruit ready for the taking, and took her. What if she just grabbed her by the shoulders, wrapped her arms around her back, pulled her in close against her full, bouncy chest, and kissed her, deeply and passionately?

She started to feet a heat pulsing between her legs and her nipples stiffened as she gazed at her own lips in the mirror, wondering what it would feel like to have that other girl’s wrapped around her own. Timidly, she raised a hand up to the middle of her chest before gently tracing the curve of her breast. She knew that she was smaller than that other girl, that her chest was easily twice her size, but what if she wanted her breasts? What if it was the green-haired girl’s cupping her perky breasts instead of her own, her fingers squeezing in gently against the soft pillow flesh. “Ahn…” she moaned as she fondled herself, imagining her finger was someone else's as she traced her puffy areola, running the tip of her finger along her nipple and shuddering with delight. What if she was a rough girl? One that was older and more experienced? Would she take her thumb, too, and pinch her perky little nipple between her fingers, a jolt of pleasure running through her body while her legs pressed in? Or would she be even bolder, maybe hover her finger just above them, the anticipation driving her wild until the green-haired girl finally flicked them, her head going white from the pleasure of it.

Her heavy panting and moans filled the apartment, and her legs started to go weak as she fantasized more and more about the green-haired girl and what she’d do. She slowly made her way down to the floor, wondering if that’s how she’d do it, if she’d be gentle, lightly tipping her onto her back on a fluffy bed. She spread her legs, slightly, her eyes going wide as she saw how wet she was between her legs, her pink lips peeking out, all swollen and moist. She wondered if the green-haired girl would like how she looked as she gingerly ran a hand down her stomach and between her legs. She ran a finger along her slit, wondering if she’d do the same, teasing her slit with her fingers and rubbing up against her clit. Or would she be more adventurous, her age and maturity showing as she slowly lowered her head between her thighs, her warm breath tickling her skin before she started licking, her warm, broad tongue driving her wild?

Or maybe, she thought, spreading her legs and using her hands to spread her waiting, eager vagina, maybe she wouldn’t be gentle at all. Maybe she’d really take her, push her down on a bed, or even the floor, and crawl up above her, pinning her down with her weight or hands, her heavy chest pressing down against her own, making it harder to breathe as she pulled aside her panties, licked her long, slender finger, and plunged it inside. She shuddered as her own finger slipped in past her hungry lips, imagining the it was the green-haired girl’s, her lust and desire for her body reaching a boiling point as she had her way with a smaller, younger girl. She’d moan and writhe underneath her, a taunting smirk spreading across her face, until she was all that she could think about, all she wanted in life. She’d be breathless, ready to lose her mind, and she’d reach up, wrap her lips around hers once more, and the green-haired girl wouldn’t relent, driving her finger in and out, harder and faster, as she slipped her tongue in past her lips and wrapped it around her own, drowning out the only thing left to her: her moans.

Her whole body shook with convulsions as she came, juices running down her thighs and squirting against the mirror. Her mind clouded over as she thought of the green-haired girl, of the smug smile that she’d surely wear having made her her own, a happy smile spreading across her own face as her body started to feel weaker and heavier. Once she’d stopped orgasming, she slowly, carefully made her way to her bed, too worn to do anything else, thinking of resting her head against the other girl’s breasts after they’d had sex until she drifted off into a blissful sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept for, but it was easily some of the best sleep she’d ever had. As the first rays of dawn started creeping in from the window above her, the most eager birds chirping away happily to greet the day, she turned in bed, groaning a little to herself as she pulled the covers over her head. As well as she’d slept, she wanted more.

“Asuna, wake up! Your breakfast is getting cold! You have practice this morning, right?”

“Ngh...okay, Mom…” she grumbled from under the covers. She reluctantly sat upright, pushing the covers off of her before starting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

She blinked slowly, trying to shake a strange feeling she had, frowning a little when nothing seemed to change. Something seemed a little off to her, and she couldn’t quite place what it was. She could have sworn her room was bigger the night before, or maybe it was that her bed was different, the sheets a different color or something. She sat there for a moment, trying to place what was wrong.

“Asuna!”

“R-right! Coming!” she yelled in response, shaking the feeling to the back of her mind as she slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen. She took a seat at the table in front of the simple breakfast her mother had prepared and started eating right away, suddenly realizing just how hungry she was.

“Jeez, it’s about time. Eat quickly now, okay? You need to get something in you, but you can’t be late for tennis practice, either.”

Asuna stopped eating for a second, her mom saying she needed something inside of her echoing through her head while she thought of Chitose, the green-haired senior on the team, pushing her down on the bed, her juicy lips plumping up and pulling in close to her own. She felt a flush spread through her cheeks, then started shoveling more rice into her mouth, trying to focus on the food in front of her and not where Chitose’s hands might wander.

When she was finished, she thanked her mom for the meal and hurriedly went back to her room. She threw on her school uniform faster than she ever had before, taking just a quick moment to look herself over in the mirror and make sure everything was straight. Something nagged at the back of her head, that maybe the mirror needed to be cleaned or something, but she didn’t have time for that right now. She tossed her pink racquet into its bag, went to head out the door, went back in to grab the bookbag she forgot, and then hurried off to school.

She started with a light jog, her feet rhythmically beating along the dusty ground by the side of the road, before picking up the pace, breaking into a full run. Even if she was heading to morning practice, there was no reason why she couldn’t get in a good warm up beforehand, after all. As she ran, a bus started passing alongside her, sputtering a little as it trudged along.

“I won’t lose to you!” she yelled, laughing as she increased her pace, her arms pumping wildly while she laughed to herself, energized by the competition she’d created. She pulled ahead quite handily, a feat made easier by the bus pulling over for a stop, and kept running, determined to beat the bus to wherever it was that it was going.

As good as her stamina was, though, her legs were soon screaming at her and a slight pinch had developed in her side, causing her breathing to get heavier and her steps to get slower. She was hardly even jogging anymore, mostly carried by her own momentum, until she desperately plopped down on a wooden bench by the side of the road, panting heavily.

She rubbed at her calves for a bit, trying to massage the pain out of them. As tired as she was, she couldn’t help but admire how smooth and soft they were, how they were the perfect balance of squishy and firm. She smiled a little, despite her exhaustion. “Well, I guess all my hard work is paying off, at least. If a year of tennis has my legs this good, just think of what I’ll look like when I’m older!” Her mind couldn’t help but wander, following her own advice, envisioning what she’d look like with long legs leading up to curvy hips and bountiful chest spilling out of a dress that was barely there, her lips coated with a seductive shade of pink. Sultry, confident words coming out of them, commanding whatever tasty young treat she’d found to eat up whatever they wanted. A perfect cougar, body and mind, the whole reason she’d started playing tennis in the first place.

Asuna was panting for a different reason by the time the bus caught up, pulling in front of her bench. A flush spread across her face, she got on the bus, her legs still a little wobbly, and took a seat by the window.

She was barely able to pull herself out of her fantasies by the time the bus reached the stop in front of her school, quickly grabbing her things and rushing out of the door just before it closed behind her. Taking one last deep breath to clear her head, she started jogging over to the tennis court, waving to the rest of the team that was there as she made her way into the small clubroom they used to store equipment and change in.

“Oh, hello, Asuna!”

Chitose greeted her as she closed the door, the green-haired girl zipping up her skirt, the polo shirt she was about to wear still neatly folded on the chair next to her.

“H-hello!” Asuna replied, the thoughts she’d had at breakfast suddenly popping into her head once more as she looked at the stuffed, soft white bra that hugged tightly against Chitose’s breasts.

“Ah, right! I guess, maybe it’s more like this, now that we’re a couple?” Chitose asked, slowly walking over to Asuna, a slight blush on her face as she leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, her heat from her lips lingering a little even after she’d pulled away. “Good morning, darling,” she said, giggling a little to hide her own embarrassment.

“G-g-g-g-” Asuna stammered, a deep blush spreading through her face as more visions started floating through her head. Her legs wrapped around Chitose’s head, the feeling of her breath against Asuna’s lips, the pinch of Chitose’s nails against her hard nipples. She didn’t know if they were memories or fantasies anymore, the sensations seeming so real, so erotic that she felt like she might boil over at any moment.

The she thought of that idealized version of herself, the strong cougar ready to pounce on a vulnerable treat, fully in charge of her body and her sexuality. The two images started blurring together in her mind until they were the same, the young, green-haired girl writhing under the older woman as she feasted. Asuna gulped, somehow finding a way to collect herself.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice matching the deeper, sultry tones of the adult she wanted to be, and she wrapped her hands around Chitose’s soft, plump waist, pulling her in close. She let her linger there for a second, her busty chest smushing up against Asuna’s, creamy white flesh spilling out of her bra. Asuna smiled hungrily at the look of surprise and embarrassment Chitose wore. She wanted to see more.

Asuna pulled her in more, Chitose’s lips unconsciously parting as their faces grew closer. Then Asuna wrapped her lips around Chitose’s, kissing her deeply, the taste of something sweet she’d had for breakfast still lingering on them. She tasted both of her lips in equal measure until they were both swollen and pouty, Chitose’s breaths coming out in short little bursts. Unable to resist, Asuna snaked her hand up the green-haired girl’s stomach, running it along the soft, cushy cup of her bra until her fingers started brushing against her smooth, pillow breasts, wrapping around it and giving it a gentle, full squeeze. Her other hand traveled down a bit, over the curve of her butt and up the skirt she’d just put on, firmly grabbing at her butt cheeks, rubbing at it through the exceptionally frilly tennis panties she wore.

Chitose let of a soft moan as Asuna squeezed, then pulled away slightly. She put a finger up to Asuna’s mouth to stop her from going in for another kiss, a smile on her face.

“Jeez, I love how fired up you get, but not here, alright? We’re already late for practice,” she said, her breathing still heavy and blush on her face. She grabbed the polo she’d put aside and began to put it on, her chest lifting up with as she slipped it over her head, pulling it down over her massive breasts.

She turned to Asuna, a nervous grin on her face.

“B-but, maybe after school, once everyone’s gone…” she started saying, an intense blush spreading over her face before she walked past her to head out, winking at Asuna one last time before she shut the door.

“Y-yes!” Asuna yelled happy, practically tearing off her clothes to change into her tennis outfit, suddenly more fired up to play than she’d ever been.


End file.
